


Love or lust?

by Wicked_Northstar



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dream Rape, Forbidden Love, Forced Deepthroat, Interracial By Fantasy Standards, M/M, Minor Character Death, Original Universe, Power and control reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 10:42:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15095036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked_Northstar/pseuds/Wicked_Northstar
Summary: Pinesbridge might seem like just another regular town in the middle of nowhere. If that is what you've been taught to think, that is what you will see. However, both vampires and werewolves lurk in the shadows of the night. Meet the werewolf innkeeper Leon Monterosa, and the powerful vampire Alexander Dimitrovski, and get a glimpse of their everynight life.





	Love or lust?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kisuru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisuru/gifts).



> This is the first time I'm participating in a challenge on AO3. It's also my first time writing and posting original fiction for somebody else. I started writing this story to one of your requests, but somewhere along the way it grew more complex than I had imagined. I did, however, take inspiration from both your request and your letter, so I hope you will enjoy your gift.

At first look, Pinesbridge seemed like a perfectly normal town. In the daytime, the streets were full of people scurrying about, trying to deal with the challenges of everyday life to the best of their ability. Kids went to the skate park after school, or hung out at the local shopping mall - which was barely more than a few shops in the same building, anyway - while most adults either worked in agriculture or commuted to the neighbouring metropolis of Megatonia for their daytime jobs. 

It’s the middle of nowhere. There was no other word for it. It was incredible to think of how well the small town facade worked; how oblivious humans were to the creatures that walked their midst. Only a few centuries ago, they were actually taught to spot us, and to kill us on sight. Now we are just myths and legends to them. Yet, we’ve made their town our home, roam their streets unseen at night, and survive on their blood.

Pinesbridge had been a safe spot for centuries now. No werewolf hunters have been seen here since the dark middle ages. No vampire hunters, either, for that matter. It’s not even a topic among our kind.

Or, it wasn’t.

Not until a young human woman was found dead near the town’s main square. Not in the nearby forest. Not concealed in any way. Just brutally murdered, with her throat slit and her body full of claw marks, as if she had been attacked by a wild animal.

Which, to be fair, she obviously had. I know what a werewolf attack looks like. The townsfolk were obviously horrified, despite the fact that the woman was apparently a tourist and not one of their own. Human patterns of reaction mystify me, sometimes. Especially in this case, where I have a different outlook altogether. Even as I passed the square on my way to work the evening after she had been found, I could still smell the traces of battle in the air. Blood. Sweat. Fear. Lust. Even though I was in human form, it hit my wolf senses to the point that it was hard to retain shape.

I had no problem understanding what had happened. Someone had given in to their werewolf instincts. It made sense.

But: It was still obviously dangerous. And I don’t mean from the human perspective.

In the town’s only inn that catered to the needs of the children of the night, the atmosphere was buzzing with the news. Racial tensions flared up anew, and the vampire leader Alexander Dimitrovski accused werewolves in general of endangering the safety and existence of everyone. Even in that moment, at the height of his vampire arrogance and in the middle of a rant where he had no concept of our point of view, it was hard to take my eyes from him.

I am the innkeeper.

My name is Leon Monterosa.

*

"Alexander," I said in my best attempt at an icy voice, "accusations like that make no sense. Especially now that we will have the human police sneaking around here before we know it, we should be preserving whatever unity we have, not sowing the seeds of hatred and divide."

It took all of my courage to protest like that. Not because I was scared; rather because I did not like leaving myself open and vulnerable for his hatred. I knew very well what he thought about my kind. It was nothing new. Yet, I had to force myself to remember to breathe as he spun around to face me. The motion was so abrupt that the soft black hair fanned out behind him as he moved, before falling in a disorderly fashion partly down his back and partly over his shoulder. 

I cursed inwardly. The man was perfect. I’d known that for years, of course, but right now, when he fixed me with that cold stare and openly sneered, it was just double obvious. In that moment, I couldn’t tell who I hated more. Him, for treating me with such unconcealed disdain, or myself, for finding him so bloody attractive despite everything.

"That was a werewolf attack," he spat. "I know such barbaric practices when I see them."

"I don’t think we’re discussing what it was. I’m just saying stop using it for your own ends."

"Well," he leaned over the bar counter and lowered his voice as he spoke. "It’s not me or my kind who can’t control our blood lust." 

I could almost taste the words against my own lips as he shifted position and allowed his forehead to touch mine as he made his point clear. 

"At least we can feed without leaving any evidence of what happened."

He smirked as he pulled away. Only now it registered in my mind that he must have been feeding very recently. The otherwise narrow lips looked a little more full, his skin tone a little less pale, his eyes… Of course, one look from him could throw any intelligent creature off balance any time, but today the gaze was steady and clear, not hazed as it would be if he had gone too long without satiating his needs.

This was Alexander at his most dangerous. The thought made the hair on my body stand on end for a moment, but I was left with no time to ponder the topic further.

Just in that moment, the front door burst open.

*

Humans - and humans in uniform, especially - never cease to confuse me with their idea that charging into a room like that is apparently supposed to have some kind of surprise effect. Here, making that amount of noise while opening the front door fully and letting in light while there is still only dusk outside, is a sure-fire indication of human presence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a couple of my more wolflike clients disappear into the shadows.

Thanks to the limits of human eyesight in these conditions, they would certainly be safe unless actively searched out, but I could still feel my mouth getting dry. Looks-wise, I was safe tonight, because I would pass for a human to the untrained eye. Only the hair on my arms and hands gave me away. Well, and perhaps the dark blond shag haircut, as the texture and colour remained somewhat wolfish even in my human form.

I had correctly predicted that we would have to fend off the police tonight, but I had not expected them to show up so suddenly and harshly, with so little respect for my patrons. As if the discussion with Alexander had not left me shaken enough, things clearly went from bad to worse with the presence of these people. 

Allowing myself to give in to the emotional turmoil I felt at that moment was not an option. The werewolf body copes with physical or emotional stress by transforming, as it makes us stronger and more connected with our wolf nature, but right now I could not let that happen. The nails on my fingers had already started resembling claws, and I knew that the eyes would be next - they would turn narrower, harder, and maybe even reddish in colour - if I did not regain control over the situation. 

Quickly.

"Gentlemen," I said calmly, as I reached for a pair of sunglasses that I kept under the counter as a safety precaution, "I’d say that’s a harsh way of charging into an otherwise peaceful inn. What can I do for you?"

The cops held up their badges, and started explaining the situation. With characteristic human blindness, they apparently had no idea what they were dealing with; they simply asked whether anyone had seen anything out of the ordinary. So much the better. Unfortunately, they quickly shifted their attention towards the fact that the inn was quite full.

"We would like to question each guest in here individually," the older cop explained. "Not everyone would want to come forward with what they know in public."

The mere idea was too risky to comprehend.

I gave them a thoughtful look while the thoughts kept replacing themselves in my mind. Despite the fact that I knew I had the law partly on my side - clients in a privately owned place of rest or recreation could not legally be questioned without permission from the owner - I had to find the way to word the protest in the nicest possible way.

"My good man," I said calmly, "I believe that would be a most disrespectful way of treating people who have decided to take the night off and come here for a good time. I will not allow any of my guests to be treated like criminals and questioned on these premises."

My attempt at formality and kind dismissal was met with brief applause from some of the regulars. For a moment, I wondered if they were aware that I could be charged with harbouring a criminal if the murderer was later found to have been among the clients tonight, but I couldn’t allow myself to take in that thought in full.

For now, I had more important matters to deal with. Such as the fact that Alexander was not done causing trouble for the night.

"Let them ask away," he chuckled. "We all know there’s nothing here."

I wanted to shout at him for making this harder than it already was; for showing such lack of concern for those of us who absolutely needed to stay out of sight, but the only thing I could do was yelling at whispered volume out of the corner of my mouth.

Some part of me instinctively knew that he relished in that reaction. This was his idea of fun; watching a werewolf suffer while trying to hold on to the human shape and avoid losing control emotionally. I clenched my fists to hide the emerging claws as I watched him close the distance to me and the two cops in a couple of steps.

"There’s nothing for you here," he said darkly, locking his gaze to that of the older cop. "Nothing," he repeated. A moment later he turned his attention to the younger one. When their eyes locked, he only needed a soft command to get the desired effect. "Now, go and write your reports. There’s nothing to see here."

The cops left a moment later, clearly still dazed from the effects of vampire compulsion. 

Unsurprisingly, the whole room erupted in spontaneous joy the moment they were out of the door. Despite Alexander’s attempts at talking the incident down as "just a little bit of compulsion," we all knew just how impressive it was. Compelling one person was hard enough, two who both had their mind set on the same agenda were much more difficult.

I was not fooled by the fake modesty. The smile he hid behind the back of his hand as he disappeared in the crowd to go back to his cronies was not modest in the slightest. It was dangerously cold and confident.

So, this was never about kindness. If I had thought for a moment that he actually cared about those of us who would have been at risk if the cops had stayed for much longer, that was just my wishful thinking. 

He didn’t care. The only thing in it for him, was power.

A demonstration of his power. Simple as that.

The thought made me furious. Yet, as I curled into a ball to sleep that morning, it wasn’t anger that was at the forefront of my mind. It was that moment earlier in the night; that moment where his forehead touched mine as I felt his words and his breath against my own lips.

For all intents and purposes, that was as good as a kiss.

In my mind, it didn’t matter that he never meant it as that. Someday I would make him understand.

*  
I didn’t know the surroundings. Neither the brick wall nor the carpet that was made of red velvet were familiar. The place seemed way too posh for my tastes, but somehow I still knew exactly where I was going. Not this door. Not that one, either. The next one, on the right side of the hallway. The one without any name tag or sign on the side. 

That was how much he was worth, now? Well, suits him right.

Alexander was lying naked on an old-fashioned divan as I entered the room. On his side, as that was the only way to cover up without any blankets or towels in sight. Even his face had been obscured to the best of his ability, as he had pulled his hair partly in front of it. I got the feeling that he had been waiting for me, but he still only barely acknowledged my presence.

"What do you want?" he asked. Tired. Still without making any move to look at me. Almost lifeless.

An empty bottle on the floor caught my eye. The colourful sticker was familiar, despite the fact that I could only partly read it right now. Sangrino. Bottled animal blood, mixed with cheap, red wine. I usually kept a few bottles in the bar in case of an emergency, but even then it could only quench a fraction of the vampire’s thirst for a few hours, maximum. If that was what they sustained him on…

I shuddered. 

"So, this is how vampires treat their King?" I sneered, moving closer and pulling a hand through his hair so that I could properly see his face. "Sophisticated creatures, eh?"

The gorgeous features were still there, but he lacked colour and spirit. Even the gaze flickered, he couldn’t look at me for more than a moment. 

"Don’t remind me," he breathed. "Besides, I know you’re not here to gloat."

That was true. Now that I thought of it, I was actually there just to see him. I wasn’t planning on taking advantage of him. All I wanted was this moment of closeness, now that he could no longer reject me. I stroked a finger over the back of his hand and pulled him slowly up to a sitting position so that I could pull him info a careful embrace. For a few moments, we sat still like that, and I wondered if he realised now, just how much I had always loved him. 

My hand found a comfortable position against the small of his back as he nuzzled his face against my neck. A soft moan escaped between my lips, a moment before it registered in my mind what he was about to do. Even in this state, he was fast enough to pierce my neck with his fang before I could react.

I could feel a fierce anger in my veins at that. 

Still the same predator, even in this state? Still just a monster thinking he could do anything to anyone? Still able to exploit my love for him, even now that I thought I was the one with the power?

It wasn’t even the bite that hurt. Not that much, anyway. Perhaps my own anger hurt the absolute most, as I pushed him roughly away and forced him down on his knees on the floor.

"Is that what you think?" I hissed, slapping his cheek and grabbing a handful of his hair. "That you can still take advantage of others, just like that?"

He tried to answer, but I didn’t let him speak. The sight of a few drops of blood on his lip reminded me again of his deceit. The anger burned in my veins and caused my fingers to tighten like a claw in his hair. In that moment, the only thing on my mind was making him feel at least a fraction of the pain I did. With my free hand, I managed to yank down my trousers and underwear, before I placed the hand on the back of his head to force him close to my crotch.

"Come on," I spat. "Suck!"

To his merit, I will admit that he did try to do as I told him. However, I never wanted to give him time to do it in his own way. With a thrust of my hips, and my hands holding him still in a painful grip, I forced him to take much more of me than he was ready for. The look as his eyes widened in shock, then pain, could only be described as priceless. He gasped for air when I pulled out to give him a small break, but the next time I gave him no choice but to take my whole length. He choked and fought in vain to be let go.

"Not yet, my love," I murmured softly. "I know you can do that again. One more time."

He nodded carefully, probably too afraid of what I could do to him if he dared to say no. However, he made no move to wipe the tears from his cheeks or hide the pleading look in his eyes.

That look remained glued to my memory even as I woke up. Nice to see that his manipulation skills were still intact. 

Even in a dream.

*

Despite the fact that I stroked myself off to the memory of his lips around my cock that night, the dream had not been purely a pleasant experience. The more I tried to preserve the good moments, the more it registered in my mind how terrifying it was to see Alexander like that.

I had never cared much about vampire politics or their insane ideas about power and royalty, but of course I was aware that the line between positions of power and a position of absolute disgrace could be very fragile and thin. 

Perhaps even as fragile and thin as in my dream.

The thought scared me almost as much as my own pattern of reaction.

"Alexander," I murmured softly to myself. "I love you, and I would never do those things to you."

Even saying it out loud did not make my discomfort fade. If it’s true that a dream is always a reflection of the dreamer’s mind, then it had to mean that I could be capable of doing those things, even to someone I loved. It made no sense. Even in the dream, I only truly wanted that moment of closeness with him.

Right?

I blinked and sat up, hoping to push the upsetting thoughts aside by focusing on the dusk of a new night, but the thought about Alexander remained.

Perhaps someday he would need me as much as I needed him? Perhaps then he might listen to me? 

The ghost of a smile formed on my lips as the idea began to form in my mind.

*

I hate summer. The extra hours of daylight affects both my business hours, as well as the general mood in our community. Less time and less opportunities to hunt usually means a more aggressive tone, and a much lower tolerance for differences of opinion. However, this year the dreadful sunny season brought an unexpected positive: The lack of any breakthrough in investigations caused the interest around the murdered girl to slowly fade into the background as life in Pinesbridge returned to normal.

Normal in the sense that I never saw any more visits from the human police in the inn. Normal in the sense that the first few hours of the night were always annoyingly quiet. However, surprise was not the only reason I jumped slightly when the door opened and Alexander stepped inside.

"'Evening," I said. "You’re up early tonight?"

He pulled the leather jacket tighter around himself, and fought back a shiver. "Only because I have to," he answered with a dejected shrug. "The town is absolutely swarming with people, because they’re all out celebrating Summer Solstice."

"At least they’re celebrating something worthwhile," I remarked darkly, but one look at Alexander told me that he couldn’t care less right now. 

The exhaustion was clearly visible in the way he struggled to even hold himself up. He had to lean on the bar counter before he managed to perch himself onto a bar stool. Even then, his posture remained huddled, and he failed to focus his gaze immediately as he shivered again. He clenched his fist in an attempt to hide it.

"Do you have Sangrino?" he asked a moment later. Controlled, now. Almost casual, despite the fact that it was obvious that he needed it.

I recognised all the classic signs of blood deprivation. Exhaustion, shivering, difficulty of maintaining focus. Once he managed to look at me, I realised that he had even failed to hide the demonic red edge around his iris. 

He chuckled as I took an involuntary step back at the sight of that. "Now?" he demanded, almost harshly.

"Sangrino won’t fix you up now," I pointed out. 

"Doesn’t matter. It’ll stop the shivering for a few hours, then I’ll find some foolish person who goes home alone in the morning."

My mind was running on overdrive in that moment. Watching Alexander treat such a cheap thrill as an absolute necessity was painful because it reminded me of what he had been like in my dream. This was obviously nothing like that, but it still hurt to see him in this state. I can’t deny that I felt a sting in my conscience as I pretended to check the fridge for the desired bottle.

"I’ve sold the last one," I said. "I’m sorry."

That earned me an angry, hissed reply. "No way, you haven’t!" The effort of such an intense reaction caused an unwanted break, before he continued with forced calmness. "You are many things, Leon, but I know you’re not that stupid."

If that was a compliment, it had a sharp edge to it that I didn’t like. However, I wasn’t going to let that bother me right now. 

"I might have some in the back room," I said, as I took a step to the side and reached over the counter to lock the front door. "You can come along and check if you want?"

Alexander considered the offer for a moment, before he got to his feet. "If you’re sure you want me poking around your stuff," he replied wryly, almost with a smile as he snaked out of his jacket and draped it neatly over the bar stool.

Still very much himself even now. Even when he was desperate for a few of those precious drops; desperate enough to come looking for them himself, he still behaved as if he had the upper hand.

"Not this time," I thought to myself as I hid a smile behind the back of my hand. "This time I’ll make you see how much I love you."

*

His body brushed against mine as I allowed him to pass me in the doorway to go inside first. A moment later, I heard him push an empty bottle crate aside in frantic search for what he wanted.

"It’s tidier than I thought in here," he remarked, and once again I wasn’t sure whether it was a compliment in disguise or just banter with a darker undertone. Either way, I laughed it off. 

"Of course."

I watched him take in the surroundings for a moment, before going to check the spare fridge on the back wall. His hand seemed to find the bottle in the fridge door before the sight of it had fully registered in his mind, but even though he grabbed it greedily, he didn’t forget his manners.

"I’ll pay you for this afterwards, okay?"

"No worries, I might just give it to you."

The effect of the drink was grippingly enticing to watch. Even just opening the bottle seemed to take all of his focus and concentration, and the first sip was just that; a small sip, a few drops of necessary life essence. Only then, he managed to sit down on a bottle crate, and after another long sip he began to relax more visibly.

"Thanks," he said quietly, not without a hint of warmth underneath.

That word, that reaction was more than I could have hoped for. In that moment, I was convinced that he had shown me a glimpse of his true self. Yet, I did not dare to touch him, or show him the more physical side of affection. Not yet. Instead, I just inched closer, unable to hide a slight smile as I let him continue to speak.

"You knew that you had these in there," he said thoughtfully, with a glance towards the bottle. "What’s the deal with making me come look for them? What do you want?"

That was a direct question. One I couldn’t evade. It was the chance I’d been waiting for since forever, but right now it was hard to take it. I shifted position to gain a second to gather my courage, then I squatted in front of him so that I didn’t have to look down on him while answering.

"You," I said breathlessly. "Don’t you know that I love you?"

*

He did not flinch at my words, but one thing seemed to surprise him:

"Love?" He tasted the word as if it was potentially poisonous, and repeated it almost disdainfully. "What kind of human influence is that on you? I’d understand if you had talked about _lust_ or _want_ , but not some sentimental crap like love."

"You can’t just brush it off like that," I said desperately. "Please, let me show you."

Perhaps I could have braced myself for an outright rejection, but this dismissive behaviour was worse than anything exactly because he seemed to imply that he could have been willing to hear me out if I had only called my feelings by a different word.

He got up from his crate as quickly as a cat, undoubtedly in an attempt to bolt for the door and the safety of the common room. However, it was exactly the move I had expected, so I caught him in a strong embrace and used my physical strength to push him towards the back wall. Believe me, I would have wanted the moment to be more tender, but even as he struggled and scratched my cheek in a vain attempt to break free, I savoured every second of his body against my own.

I’d wanted this for so long. My love. My Alexander. So beautiful like this.

I used my body weight to pin him against the brick wall, and one hand to force his wrist to the wall at a slightly strange angle. It had to be painful to stand like that, but at least it made him gradually stop fighting.

"I don’t want to hurt you," I explained, shifting position and pushing my free hand underneath his renaissance shirt. Much to my satisfaction, he moaned softly at my touch, and his eyes fluttered shut as my fingers found his nipple. I don’t know if it was mainly an expression of shame or pleasure, or perhaps a bit of both, but I took it as encouragement either way. 

"See?" I breathed against his cheek as I pinched his nipple, hard. "Love is not such a bad thing, after all."

*

His skin felt soft against my lips as I kissed his cheek and tried to trace a line to the corner of his mouth. Even as I let go of his wrist, he didn’t bother to try pushing me away. He placed his hand very deliberately on my butt, but he still writhed away from my attempt at a kiss.

"You’re still talking about that nonsense," he hissed, locking his gaze with mine with impressive determination given his predicament. "Call it lust, and we might have something to talk about. If you keep calling it love, you’re missing the mark entirely."

His words hit home agonisingly well, but only made me more determined to make him understand. As I breathed in the scent of him and murmured in disagreement, I had to admire him for having the presence of mind to knock me off my perch like that despite clearly fighting a losing battle physically.

I was nervous for a moment when I took a small step back. My hand remained under his shirt, but at least I managed to show him enough trust to not keep him pinned to the wall. Much to my surprise, he followed my movement, and even allowed me to unbutton his shirt and push it off of his shoulders. 

"One piece of clothing for another," he teased. Almost with a smile, now, and not scared in the slightest. How did he even do that? I felt a sharp sting of annoyance at that, but then his hands were at my sides, and he leaned into me, murmuring softly. 

So direct. Determined to get exactly what he wanted, and yet almost tender about it. He surprised me for that. I would have thought that he would have wanted revenge for what I put him through a moment ago, but he did no such thing. Instead, he made sure our bodies touched as much as possible as he placed a kiss on the side of my neck, and pushed his hands underneath my t-shirt. 

"Come on," he hissed impatiently. "Take this off?"

I let him pull the shirt over my head, then I shivered slightly as his hand remained on my chest afterwards.

"Same colour," he remarked after a moment, tracing a hand from my chest to the back of my neck. Only as he threaded a playful finger into my hair, it registered in my mind what he meant. Werewolves’ hair and body hair were always the same colour as the individual’s fur colour, so to me there was nothing special about that feature. To Alexander, however, it was a fascinating fact. He shifted against me so that his chest touched the hairy part of mine, before threading more fingers into my hair.

Then he pulled. Hard.  
A moment later, he smirked as he pushed a knee between my legs in the most painful way possible. The sudden agony made me stagger for a moment, and he used that moment to push me to my knees, still with his hand locked in a hard grip in my hair.

"Did you really think I was going to let you get away with your dirty little plan, unpunished?" he sneered. "Now you’re going to show me exactly how much you _love_ me."

This time there was no doubt in my mind. The word was truly like poison from his lips.

*

"I’ll give you one thing," Alexander began, using the grip in my hair to force me to look up at him. "You were smarter than I took you for."

The slap against my cheek was more humiliating than actually painful. It caused my breath to hitch, and my eyes to shut involuntarily while he continued talking.

"I should have figured out you were up to something when you wanted me to come to the back room, but I didn’t realise until you started talking, so in a way I guess it’s my fault, too…" He paused to watch me regain my focus, and then he slapped me again.

The impact stung much worse this time. So much that I had to gasp for air; so much that low, pained sound escaped between my lips. 

Alexander didn’t bat an eyelash at it. If I had hoped that he’d have at least a bit of compassion, then he didn’t show it. He did, however, loosen the grip in my hair for the moment it took him to undo his belt. "Come on," he commanded. "I trust you know what to do?"

"Yes," I nodded quietly. I knew him well enough by now. Surely, he was going to make me choke, the way I had done to him in my dream.

I shivered at the terrifyingly careful touch of his hand against my cheek.

*

He was nothing like me. 

In the dream, I chose to treat him brutally because he made me angry. In reality, he had every reason to be angry with me, but underneath the harsh tone, he treated me with a kindness I had not expected. Despite the fact that he kept the hard grip either in my hair or at the back of my head, he never tried to force me to take more than I was ready for.

I didn’t understand. Every time I heard him moan or felt him shift position or grip, I mentally braced myself for a forceful thrust. Instead, he gave me time to lick and suck his cock the way I would do to a lover; to someone I trusted. The only difference was that I didn’t trust him; I didn’t know if he would suddenly decide to hurt me.

I was shaking even as I flicked my tongue over the head of his cock the first time I took him into my mouth. Later, once he knew that I was ready for it, he used the grip in my hair to get the angle he wanted as he pushed into my mouth. Forcefully, focused on taking his own pleasure as he groaned lewdly.

He was close, now. I could hear it from the way his breathing changed, but most of all I could feel how his movements got more frantic, before finally coming to a stop as he groaned. I could feel tears on my cheeks as his grip on my hair tightened.

And I swallowed. However, a bit of his cum still trickled from my mouth as he pulled away. For a moment, I watched him with a detachment I did not feel. He wiped himself clean with the shirt he had taken so tenderly from me earlier, before zipping up his jeans as if he had done nothing out of the ordinary.

Only then, it registered in my mind that I was still shaking. 

"Do you see it now?" Alexander asked, leaning down to lap at the tears that I had failed to wipe off my cheeks. "It’s always just lust."


End file.
